


Two of Us

by Kylie_Smilie_26



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:36:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylie_Smilie_26/pseuds/Kylie_Smilie_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Eric have been in a relationship – of sorts – for several years. One has realised that he is in love with the other person; question is, does that other love him back? Or have any kind of deep feelings for him at all? And what will happen when an attempt is made to talk about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.
> 
> Notes: This idea (along with plenty others), has been with me for quite some time – but that miserable excuse for a Muse has not exactly been cooperative, if anything it’s been pretty much non-existent since finishing No Response… so this is probably rather ordinary…
> 
> What has resulted turned into something I didn’t quite expect. It swayed quite drastically from my original idea, but you gotta go with the muse. I tried to do something different… but I don’t think I succeeded. In fact I know I failed. Miserably. More of the usual angst. That said, enjoy guys. xo :)
> 
> Again – I’ve rattled on… for something different. If you’ve got this far, well done, and I promise, there is an attempt at a story below… ;)

*M&E*

_Two of us, just the two of us_

_Not too many or too few of us_

_Two of us together in any kind of weather,_

_Two of us together just the two of us…_

He had had that blasted song in his head all day. Why it had suddenly appeared at the forefront of his conscious he had no idea. Well, that was a lie – he knew full well why it was all but stuck on repeat in his mind.

He could not stop thinking about him.

They had first hooked up shortly after filming that episode of Do Not Adjust Your Set. It was a massive surprise to them both to wake in each other’s arms; a tangled mess of arms, legs, and bed sheets after one hell of a pub crawl. It was all they could do to awkwardly escape the uncomfortable silence and the other’s clutches…

_I could have stayed in your embrace – I wanted to feel your lips, your caresses just one more time…_

Both must have enjoyed it though – because they kept coming back for more – albeit after some liquid courage initially. However it soon became something they did sober more often than not… well at least on one side of the… relationship? He wasn’t sure what label he could give them…

He haphazardly ran his elongated fingers through his long, blonde tresses; sighing heavily. When did it turn into something so meaningful? When did it seemingly suddenly become something he could not live without? When did he become like oxygen? And why?

There was just one small problem. Michael didn’t love him…

_Probably my fault for being so fucked up. Who in their right mind would love me?_

 

*M&E*

 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The shrill tone broke his chaotic thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Eric? It’s Terry. Can you come and get Mike and take him home?”

On hearing this, Eric’s slight irritation at the late night interruption turned into concern. Damn it all, but he loved Mikey. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. He’s just had a few too many drinks and maybe the odd joint. I would take him, but with Alison sick and everything I don’t really want to leave her…”

“That’s fine Tel, I understand. I can take him home.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks Eric.”

He placed the phone into its cradle. A look of sheer confusion, mixed with an ever-growing apprehension was etched in his features. Why did Terry sound practically sober and Michael smashed off his face? Michael wasn’t a saint, but this seemed out of character. He certainly was not one to drink or smoke heavily if others weren’t. And especially so when a social gathering wasn’t taking place…

Maybe he was over-reacting. Terry didn’t say Mikey was off his face, but certainly implied it.

_I wonder why he needed to get hammered?_

 

*M&E*

 

Eric slowly approached Michael. He was lying almost unconscious on Terry and Alison’s couch in their living room. His fingers subconsciously found their way to the other man’s dark brown hair; finger-brushing his growing fringe away from his eyes. “Oh hell Mikey – what have you done to yourself?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” A soft voice broke him out of his inner world. Terry had joined him in the living room.

Eric nodded in agreement, taking in Terry’s observation and the obvious alarm he had toward his writing partner. “Did he say anything?”

Terry pondered this for a moment. “Nothing that I can think of. We were writing a sketch for Flying Circus… which was fine, but Mike seemed really down. Hence why he kept drinking and smoking like it was his last day on earth.” He paused to take a breath, “I didn’t really notice at first, and before I knew it he was wasted.”

Eric nodded, watching his lover; his worry increasing tenfold. “So he didn’t say anything at all? Even in his current state?”

Terry sighed as he shook his head. “He refused to talk to me. Me, his best mate. He should be able to tell me what’s wrong. Oh yeah, I know blokes don’t talk about problems, but we do when we’re pissed.”

Eric hummed in concern, getting on his knees to be at Michael’s level on the couch. He shook him gently. “Mike? Michael?”

The only response from the sleeping man was a moan of protest. “Sleepy…”

“I know Mikey but I gotta take you home. You’ll feel better in your own bed.”

“S’comfy here Eric…”

“Come on Mikey time to go home…” He hesitated briefly before whispering something in his ear out of Terry’s earshot. “We’ll be alone, do you want that love?” That particular endearment he rarely allowed himself to use, in fear of his lover’s reaction toward it.

He could see a sleepy grin form. “Okay – you can take me home any day Eric. You’re sho shexy.” He slurred, giggling.

“Sexy?” Terry asked, stunned.

Eric laughed his good mate off. “Come on Tel, you don’t really believe him do you? The man is completely off his face, he’s not exactly making any sense right now.”

Terry shrugged, a sly grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Okay, that’s fine… but doesn’t the truth come out when one is inebriated?”

To his absolute horror, Eric felt his cheeks redden. “Oh fuck off Jonesy.”

Terry chuckled, “Ease up mate, I’m only joking.”

“Mike… get up.”

The youngest member of the troupe slowly opened his eyes. “Do I ‘av to?”

“Yes, if you don’t want to feel completely wrecked tomorrow you do.”

“Alright, alright Imma getting up.”

Despite himself, his lover smiled. “Good. You right… I’ll help you stand okay?”

“S’okay… Eric’s gonna help me up Tel.” He garbled, his words almost blending into something completely incoherent as Eric pulled him up, and immediately an intoxicated Michael swayed heavily and leaned into the blonde.

“I know mate. I’m sure Eric will look after you.”

Michael grinned drunkenly; giggling. “Yesh he shure will. Ewic’shs very goosh at looking after me.”

Terry laughed, “I’m sure he is.” He turned to Eric, “You right with him?”

Eric nodded, “Yeah. If you could just get the door and we’ll be on our way.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“It’s fine. You’ll owe me one.”

“Never get anything for nothing with you eh Idle?”

Eric chuckled, “Hit the nail on the head mate.”

 

*M&E*

 

Although the drive from Terry’s to Michael’s apartment only lasted for ten minutes, Michael had – unsurprisingly – fallen asleep in the front passenger seat. Eric cut off the engine and he turned to watch a sleeping Michael.

“Why did you do it Mikey?” He murmured, more to himself than the slumbering Michael. “What’s wrong love eh?” His fingers had again found their way to Michael’s dark locks; curling their way through the soft strands and down the side of his face. They stopped at his left cheek, cupping it gently as he placed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Okay Mike, time to get you into bed.” He hopped out of the car and walked over to the passenger door. He opened the door and reached over Michael’s sleeping form to undo his seatbelt.

Michael stirred, whether it was the movement that disturbed him or his cologne, Eric wasn’t sure. (He did hope that it was the latter.) He went to kiss Eric. “C’mon Ewic – give us a kiss…”

“When you’re safely inside okay Mikey?”

“Aww you’re no fun anymore.”

Despite himself, Eric chuckled at this. “Perhaps. Out we get.”

Michael giggled. _He is most giggly when both somewhat stoned in addition to totally pissed._ Eric mused; _He’s like a silly schoolgirl._

“You shmell s’good.. s’good…”

Eric couldn’t help but blush at this; his cheeks maddeningly warming for a second time in half an hour. “Do I?” He asked, the words coming out of his mouth before his mind could really protest. _Word filter Idle, damned idiot!_

“Mhm, you shmell wunnerful.”

He felt his cheeks grow warmer still. “Good to know.” He replied, trying to act nonchalant, but his breath hitching at crucial moments gave him away. Not that Michael would have noticed in his current state.

On instinct he wrapped an arm around Michael’s waist so he was somewhat steady on his drunken legs. In response Michael snuggled into the taller man’s shoulder, seemingly quite content to stay there forever… well for the moment anyway. _I could get used to this… Oh get a grip Idle, he’s only doing it because he’s off his face. This would never happen when he’s sober…_

_Still, it’s nice to think about…_

Moments later, they were at his front door. “Where are your keys Mike?”

“Hmm?” Came the sleepy response.

“Keys Mikey? We need to get you inside so you can sleep it off.”

His lover frowned. Then giggled. “Uh. Keys… pocket…”

Eric tried his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I think…”

“Oh Mikey,” Eric sighed, “What am I going to do with you eh?”

Michael puckered his lips; the worldwide tell-tale indicator for one wanting a kiss. “Kiss me Ewic, please?”

_Oh hell…_

“When we’re inside.” Eric told him, repeating his response from several minutes ago.

Mike pouted. And oh, even when drunk out of his mind, what a magnificent pout it was. “Aww Ewic…”

“Hush Mikey, we’re almost there.” He placated his drunken lover, as he finally found the keys and fumbled for the lock.

As soon as they had stumbled inside, Michael’s lips were on Eric’s – the latter had only just managed to turn on the light and close the door. Eric was rather taken aback by this – he wasn’t usually quite this keen, despite his level of intoxication. “Michael…” He finally managed to get out inbetween his lover's wet kisses (and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t becoming affected by the onslaught). _Damn it Mikey…_

“You shaid t’wait til we’re inshide…” He all but whispered in Eric’s ear. “C’mon Ewic, kiss me…”

“You need to sleep Mikey.”

That wonderful, damn near irresistible pout returned to Michael’s features. “Aww don’t want t’shleep. Want you…”

“You’re wasted Mikey… it’s not right.” _Hell Idle, you must really love him if you don’t want to take advantage of him…_

_But will it ever happen when he’s sober?_

“C’mon Idle, want you, need you… so bad…”

Michael’s lips found their way to his aficionado’s. _Oh fuck it…_ He kissed him back with eagerness this time, meeting the wet, clumsy but oh so _fabulous_ kisses from his drunken lover. _How on earth he can kiss so bloody well when off his face I have no idea._

They awkwardly stumbled their way to Michael’s bedroom, clothes being removed and scattered about with careless abandon.

“You have no idea how fucking amazing you are Mikey.” He all but whispered as he kissed his way down his lover’s chest and torso, his hands toying with Michael’s particularly sensitive nipples.

“Fuck Eric.” Michael groaned; the tone of his voice unashamedly lustful. “S’good.”

Eric looked up at this, a tender and loving smile turning the corners of his mouth. “Only the best for you Mikey.” His lips now edging closer to where Michael needed it most.

“Oh god…” Mike moaned when Eric’s soft mouth found its way to his fully erect member, his hands haphazardly clutching and twirling through the blonde curls of his lover.

Somewhere deep inside his mind Eric knew he should probably stop if he wanted to get his full dose of pleasure out of this encounter, however he was getting incredibly turned on just by pleasuring Michael. _Fuck Idle, you have got it bad…_

“Your turn Ewic.”

Michael pulled him up to bring their lips together for a loving kiss, lapping greedily at his taste on Eric’s tongue. Eric groaned into the kiss and bucked into Michael’s hand as it suddenly wrapped itself around Eric’s erection. “God Mike…”

His hand was pumping at a furious pace and Eric fast felt himself falling to the brink…

All of a sudden Michael removed his hand, causing Eric to sigh in frustration. He had been so close. “Ready now.”

Eric opened a bedside drawer which he knew contained wonderful goodies designed for sex – lube, toys and condoms. Before getting together that drunken night, Eric would have never suspected Michael to be so… so open about sex. He grabbed a condom and put one on himself, and poured the lube onto his sheathed member. He edged one finger inside his lover, then two as he made sure that his hazel-eyed Michael was ready.

“Fuck Idle… need you inside me now.” _He’s stopped slurring._ Eric mused, suddenly realising this little fact. _Amazing what happens during sex._

“Ooh demanding much love?” Eric teased, pouting.

“C’mon Eric… I love the feel of you inside me.”

Eric kept his fingers inside for a little longer, and when he could no longer resist the feeling of being sheathed inside his lover; wanting more – he stopped and eased the tip of his penis to Michael’s opening.

Being somewhat cautious at first, he slowly slipped himself into Michael and began to thrust gently. “Oh s’good Eric…”

When he spotted Michael’s hand moving to stroke his rock hard member, Eric quickened his thrusts, unable to hold back any longer. “Fuck…”

“God Eric, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me Mikey, I know you’re close.”

“Fuck Eric…” Michael moaned as Eric hit his prostate again and again…

_Nothing beats this feeling… nothing… he’s so tight. So good…_

“Fuck…” Michael came long and hard, his hot semen covering his hand and Eric’s stomach. This was enough to trigger Eric’s release that was so incredible he saw stars. Or perhaps that was due to not being with him for what felt like years. “Fucking hell Mikey.”

There was a comfortable, sated silence for a few moments as both delighted in the most intimate act and the almost overwhelming feeling of pleasure that accompanied it. When Eric finally opened his baby blues he saw Mike gazing at him in an almost loving manner. _Loving? Wishful thinking Idle._

“Well that was… pretty fucking good Idle.” Michael said dreamily, his hands lazily finger-drawing across Eric’s chest, as he kissed and licked Eric clean of his own juices.

Eric subconsciously took Michael’s wandering hand and kissed his fingers tenderly. “Sure was Mikey.” He agreed, easing himself out of his lover and allowing Michael to draw him into his embrace, falling onto him. This was quite possibly his favourite time with Mike – the moments immediately after sex – as he was most affectionate and gave himself permission to hold Eric – even if only for a few moments. But sometimes Eric was in Michael’s embrace long enough for them to both fall asleep.

Eric felt himself quickly falling into slumber as Michael’s fingers continued to draw over his body. He nestled a little deeper into his lover’s warm chest and shoulder. _Don’t get too comfy Idle, you know what will happen if you’re here in the morning…_

“I should go…” He mumbled into Michael’s warmth, kissing a spot just above his left nipple. He reluctantly left his oh so comfortable spot atop of Mike.

An arm halted him in his tracks, causing Eric to look at Michael in surprise. “Stay.”

Eric’s eyes widened in shock and he could practically feel his jaw drop to the floor.

“Please Eric, stay.”

Eric allowed himself to be brought back to his original position lying atop of the other man. (Possibly from the shock as much as anything else.)

“Oh okay, but just for a little while.” He finally replied sleepily. _Bad idea Idle… you’re practically asleep now… but he’s so warm…_

His eyes closed, and he could have sworn he heard someone say I love you as he drifted off…

 

*M&E*

_Oh. God._

_Fuck my head hurts… it feels like I’ve gone head first into a wall of bricks._

Michael wearily massaged the temples of his forehead which throbbed madly. He blearily opened his eyes, (that felt like they were full of sand), and no sooner were they open they were quickly forced shut again. _What the hell happened last night?_

 _Hell, am I even in my own bed?_ He sighed with relief when he realised it was indeed his own room. It was then he felt that he wasn’t alone in the room. _Who the hell did I shag last night?_ With a groan he slowly turned over…

“Oh. Fuck.”

_What have I done? Christ Palin you can’t keep fucking Idle every time you get pissed. You’ll give him the wrong idea…_

_You have to admit… why do you keep doing it?_

_Oh shut up!_

He watched him for as long as he dared; his bare back facing him, that long blonde mop of curls hanging loosely and no doubt framing his face madly as is its want when sleeping. He did not want to analyse why he found a sleeping Eric slightly adorable. _Ugh. Adorable Palin, really?_ “Eric?” He said, quietly and hesitantly at first. He didn’t want to make his excruciating headache worse. “Eric?” This time his voice was a little louder, shaking him on the shoulder.

Eric shifted marginally, mumbling something incoherently, something impossible for Michael to make any sense of. “Bloody hell Idle, wake up already!” Mike snapped irritably (immediately cringing as he did so – his hangover not at all agreeable), most frustrated at how he allowed this to happen for the umpteenth time…

_Although it does take two… and was he pissed too?_

“Huh? Wha?” Eric did rouse at this rather unpleasant wake up call, his blue eyes looking quite madly round before seeming to recognise his sleeping partner. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on Mike?”

“Dunno. You want to tell me?”

Eric looked somewhat hurt at this reaction from his friend; his lover (even if Michael refused to admit it). _I knew I should have left… but why is he being like this?_

He focused again on Michael, noticing that he had now crossed his arms – a sign of his impatience. _Best to pretend I was hammered too… I just hope his memory is really scratchy…_ “It looks like we had too much good drink and grass mate – it seems to be a deadly mix for us.”

Michael grunted noncommittally, (putting his head in his hands (oh how Eric wanted to wrap an arm around him – he looked so fragile, however knew that this move would be unwelcomed)), making it hard for Eric to tell if he believed him or not.

“I seem to vaguely remember being over at Terry’s for some writing, can’t recall you there though. And somehow we ended up back here at mine… so how did we get here if both of us were smashed off our faces?”

Eric felt like Michael’s hazel orbs were burning right through him. Believe it or not, Eric was not very good at lying – in fact he was quite hopeless at it. And he found it practically impossible to lie to those he felt closest to; especially Michael. He sighed, knowing he was busted. “Tel asked me to pick you up, he was real worried ‘bout you.”

“So you weren’t pissed?” _Fuck Idle… you better watch your answer here._

Eric shrugged, answering honestly. “I had had a few… but not enough to not be able to drive.”

_Well at least he didn’t say he was stone cold sober._

“So you knew exactly what you were doing.” It was not a question.

Eric’s refusal to look him in the eye was enough for Michael. “Fucking hell Eric! You just don’t take advantage of a guy like that. Fuck.”

Eric felt about six years old again, getting the strap from his teacher at that prison of a school. “I’m sorry Mike…”

Michael was livid by this point. “You’re sorry? Is that all you can say?”

“I tried Mike, but you were fucking refusing to let me go…”

“I was off my fucking face Idle! You could have easily shoved me off if you tried.”

Eric got out of the bed, scrambling for his clothes. “Maybe I should just go…”

“Maybe you should. I guess I should thank you for getting me home safely last night…” He snapped venomously, those hazel eyes blazing intently.

 _Where has the lovely, easy-going Mike gone? This one’s just nasty._ Eric could no longer hold his own temper at bay and he let loose. “No problem mate. But this – what happened is not just my fault y’know. You wanted it so fucking badly last night, and no I could not have ‘shoved you off’ if I tried, because you were like a bloody rash, you were all over me. And I’m no fucking saint Mikey, you know that – especially when you say something like ‘I love you’ to me.”

Michael stared at him, completely stunned. “I what?” He eventually stammered, unable to believe he said something like that – even drunk.

Eric nodded, and sat back down on the bed. “Maybe you need to take a close look at why you got so fucked last night.” He sighed, his anger gone as quickly as it came. “Look Mike, it wasn’t like you to get so wasted, I’m worried okay. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. I only ask one thing of you… please just make up your mind one way or the other – because it’s not fair how you toy with me like this. You either want this, or you don’t.”

With that, he made his way out of Michael’s bedroom and sat in his car, somewhat unnerved by the turn of events. _That could not have gone any fucking worse…_

Michael hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. He just couldn’t get over the shock at what Eric said that he had said in bed the night before. _I did not say I love you to him…_

_Did I?_

_And am I really being such a downright bastard stringing him along like he says???_

_Course you are Palin – you have to stop this. He now seems to want more than I sure thought would happen…_

_Fuck, what on earth am I going to do?_

_Do I love him?_

 

*M&E*

 

The next few days seemed to drag by for both Michael and Eric. Just going through the motions – up early for long days filming, arguments with producers, directors and the other Pythons about how the sketches should go, home late from said filming and meetings about the show and new sketches.

Michael was sure the others had noticed the almost palpable, simmering tension between Eric and himself. And it sure was not the delicious tension either. Far from it. Apart from when filming for the show, Eric refused to speak to him. (That said, Mike himself was not forthcoming in wanting to speak with Eric either.) Michael couldn’t really blame him either… while he was still incredibly angry at him for taking advantage of him when he was so vulnerable, he had not helped any by being so… slutty; throwing himself at Eric when inebriated.

In fact, the others had definitely picked up on the frosty atmosphere between the two. He had noticed the strange, concerned looks between his fellow Pythons. It was near on impossible, particularly when Mike was as close to Eric’s closest friend as possible given Eric’s tendency to not really allow anyone in, despite his outwardly vivacious and bubbly personality.

“Okay Mike, what the hell is going on between you and Eric? I hate seeing you so miserable and distracted, and he seems exactly the same – and moody as fuck to boot.” Terry said as he sat down beside his writing partner to stop for a break from filming.

Michael sighed, “Your point Tel?”

“My point is that neither of you are like yourselves lately. What’s the matter Mike? None of us like seeing you guys like this.”

_Just leave it alone Terry… I don’t want to talk about it. It’s between me and Idle._

“Is it really any of your business; isn’t it between Eric and me?”

Terry sighed deeply, an almost desperate attempt to keep his quick fire temper from rising to the surface. He was most worried about them, particularly Mike. They were both quiet, sullen and moody – a complete contrast to their personalities at the best of times. “Perhaps ordinarily. But it kind of becomes our business when it’s affecting Python. Besides, I’m worried Mike, this isn’t like you.”

“Leave it be Tel. We’ll sort it out in our own time and I can’t speak for Eric but I’ll try to not let it affect my work so much.”

Terry nodded, not quite believing, yet willing to trust his dear friend regardless. “Okay Mike, but hell, get it out of your system before it really impacts us alright?”

“How would it do that Terry?”

“Well, worst case scenario is that the tension between you two becomes so unbearable it splits up the group.”

“Oh come off it Terry, there are always arguments between us. Fuck, you and Cleese are always arguing! It’s hardly likely to fundamentally damage Python.” Michael countered angrily. He was fed up with this conversation, fed up with the constant looks between the other guys, fed up with the constant thoughts rattling around in his mind about Eric, fed up with _everything_.

“That’s just professional disagreements Mike; this seems more… more personal or something.”

_Oh if only you knew. You have no fucking idea…_

“Terry, can you just let it be? You don’t know anything about it so just drop it!”

“Fine Palin! Have it your way!” Terry couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by Mike’s outburst. Still, something had to be said. It was getting downright awful between the pair, with either refusing to speak to the other unless in a scene.

Michael was about to get up and leave, but something held him back. There was something in Terry’s dark eyes that made him take notice. He couldn’t quite put a label on it, but those brown eyes were ablaze with emotion. A mix of concern, ire and something else. Or was that just his shattered, exhausted mind playing tricks?

Before he knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed him. There was nothing tentative about this onslaught; his overwrought emotions got the better of him and he was kissing him with vigour.

Terry for his part was most definitely shocked at seeing Mike approach him so closely and place his lips atop of his own. He was too stunned to realise the full extent of what was truly happening… he was being kissed by his best friend; a man no less. It felt so different from Alison’s – rougher, he could feel Michael’s growing stubble on his chin and he could taste the flavour of nicotine mixed with coffee from his kisses. Something he hadn’t experienced with his wife…

“Michael… what the fuck did you do that for?” Terry stammered when he came to his senses.

Later, Michael would reflect that he did it mostly because he was so confused about his feelings for Eric. It was something he just had to do to see if he had sexual feelings – if he was turned on by any other men, or if it was just Eric.

Michael had turned a bright red and could hardly look his writing partner in the eye. “I don’t know… I’m sorry Tel.”

“Fucking hell Mike. I never knew you were into men that way…”

Michael shrugged, completely at a loss at what to say that could possibly explain why he just kissed his best friend.

“Sorry Tel.” It seemed to be the only thing that his mouth could say.

“Maybe I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” Terry eventually said, gesturing with his facial expression to his left.

Michael could not believe his eyes. Eric was standing there, seemingly frozen to the spot with the saddest look etched in those baby blues.

_Fuck… how much did he see?_

He had a strong inkling that that expression would be forever imprinted in his mind.

“Eric…”

“Don’t Michael. Just don’t.”

 

The end… or TBC…  
you decide. :)


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay… let’s attempt to do a proper summary. Michael and Eric have been in a relationship – of sorts – for several years. One has realised that he is in love with the other person; question is, does that other love him back? Or have any kind of deep feelings for him at all? And what will happen when an attempt is made to talk about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise sincerely for the delay... and I lied... it's going to be at least three chapters. So the Muse doesn't want to shut up and wrap the story up nice and concisely it would seem! 
> 
> I hope it is worth the wait and that you continue to enjoy it. Feedback would be appreciated. :) xo
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.

***M &E***

**_Previously…_ **

**_“Fucking hell Mike. I never knew you were into men that way…”_ **

**_Michael shrugged, completely at a loss at what to say that could possibly explain why he just kissed his best friend._ **

**_“Sorry Tel.” It seemed to be the only thing that his mouth could say._ **

**_“Maybe I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” Terry eventually said, gesturing with his facial expression to his left._ **

**_Michael could not believe his eyes. Eric was standing there, seemingly frozen to the spot with the saddest look etched in those baby blues._ **

**_Fuck… how much did he see?_ **

**_He had a strong inkling that that expression would be forever imprinted in his mind._ **

**_“Eric…”_ **

**_“Don’t Michael. Just don’t.”_**

 

***M &E***

 

He anxiously walked into the room. The sight on the bed that greeted, (greeted – huh, there had to be someone laughing down at him at that – oh the irony of it all), him just about shattered him to the core. _Oh hell…_

He couldn’t move for several moments as he absorbed the seriousness of the other man’s – his lover, there was no denying that now – condition. There were tubes everywhere; he was hooked up to just about every machine in the hospital surely. The intensity of the situation was overwhelming. _Oh I’m so so sorry… this is all my fault…._

He slowly approached the bed and slumped down wearily into the chair beside his comatose lover. He scooted his chair closer; he needed to be close to him. He carefully wove his hand in between that of his lover’s. It eased his shot nerves a touch to feel the slither of warmth coming from that delicate hand – it was the reassurance that he was indeed still alive and breathing. That was a lie; the machine was breathing for him, but still he was _alive_ at this point, and that was all that mattered... 

He leaned in and tenderly kissed his forehead, careful to avoid the recently patched up angry wounds and the forming dark bruises found there.

“I’m so sorry. You have to get better and open those eyes… you just have to…”

 _I don’t think I could ever, ever forgive myself if you don’t…_

 

***M &E***

**Thirty-six hours earlier…**

 

 _Oh shit. What the hell have I done?_ Michael thought miserably as he sadly watched Eric’s lightning retreating form. _That look on his face… bloody hell. Kill me now. Perhaps I do *like* Eric. Like him a lot. And I’ve just gone and fucked it up. This is a nightmare… it has to be a nightmare._

“What the fuck was that about Mike?” Terry asked, his emotional tone seeping through Michael’s inner frenzied ramblings. And in amongst all those chaotic thoughts, not once did he think about how it affected Terry; the only thing that suddenly mattered was Eric. That look of utter devastation imprinted into Eric’s features was an epiphany for the Python. 

Michael shook his head, as if to clear his mind of the extensive reflections clouding his conscious. He could tell that Terry was still shaken and angered by the kiss. You’re a dickhead Palin. 

“I’m so sorry Tel. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“That much is obvious. Don’t mind about that. What I want to know is what the hell is going on between you and Eric. Now after _that_ display you cannot tell me nothing is going on…” 

Michael sighed, putting his head in his hands, which ran a wild path through his dark tendrils. “I’ve fucked up Tel. That’s what I’ve done. I think I might have broken a man’s heart…” 

 

***M &E***

 

Michael kissed Terry. 

Michael kissed Terry.

Michael kissed Terry. 

_Snap out of it Idle. You should have seen this coming. It only proves he feels nothing for me, that’s all, no big deal._

“Keep telling yourself that Idle. You might believe it one day.” He muttered quietly to himself, rolling his light blue eyes. “Fuck I need a fag. No scratch that – a joint or three and a dozen cans of strong scotch would be better.” He just had to get legless; he had to get to the point where he did not care, feel anymore. 

He had fled from the ‘scene of the crime’ as soon as he heard Michael’s voice calling out to him. Until that moment he could not move, it was like Michael’s voice had acted as a trigger for his brain to move. He had seen it all in painstaking detail. Terry and Michael – his Michael – in a close, and heated conservation, no doubt about them, and in horror watched Michael lean in and kiss Terry. Hard. Time stopped to the typical slow motion one saw in pivotal moments in movies.

_Why Mikey… why?_

_What did I do wrong?_

“Eric?” 

_Oh fuck. I do not want to talk to him…_

“Eric, are you in here?” 

_How on earth did he find me?_

“I just want to talk to you, please?”

 _For what? So you can rub my face in it? No thanks._

 

***M &E***

 

Terry, bless his heart, had listened patiently; and more importantly attentively, to Michael’s heartfelt story. And for once, kept his mouth shut as Michael poured his heart out. About everything that had been haunting his being since the falling out with Eric. He simply listened, and did what old friends should do – be a sounding board when required. 

Which is what brought Michael here now, trying to coax Eric out of his hiding spot in the toilet cubicle. Terry had all but ordered him to find Eric now and firstly apologise and tell him what he had just heard. _“He needs to know that Mike. It’s pretty clear from his reaction to what he saw how much he loves you. You have to make this right.”_

Michael recognised this with painful clarity. As soon as he saw those distraught, horrified baby blue eyes staring dejectedly back at him, he knew he had to fix what he had broken…

He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that Eric was hiding in the toilet, but his intuition told him otherwise. It was not like Eric to cower in a toilet, _(that’s not to say that he wouldn’t do **other** things in a toilet cubicle… Oh save that thought for another time Palin)_ , but Michael knew that his actions with Terry had most likely temporarily reverted him back to the mindset of a young child. _You’re an idiot Palin. And a coward._

“Eric, I know you’re in here. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now. But will you please hear me out?” 

He paced round the relatively small, but nicely furbished bathroom while he waited for a response. As expected he didn’t get one. Eric was nothing but stubborn at the best of times. Especially so when upset. _I know him so well; yet I don’t **really** know him at all._

He sighed, and slowly approached the closed door of the cubicle. He could have sworn he heard someone softly weeping. _He’s crying??? Oh bloody hell Eric what are you doing to me???_

Michael sighed for the second time in minutes. “Look Eric, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had seen that-”

“Oh so I wasn’t supposed to see it… well how was I supposed to find out? Through Gray being all sympathetic – oh poor Eric…” Eric interrupted, finally unable to maintain his silence on the matter. 

_No wonder he took that the wrong way Palin…_ “That’s not what I meant! You shouldn’t have had to see it at all. It was a mistake-” 

“A mistake that I happened to see it you mean? Fuck Michael I just happen to work with you both!” 

“No! You’re completely misinterpreting what I’m saying! I didn’t mean to kiss him at all!”

“Yeah you didn’t mean to stick your tongue down his throat. Of course not.” 

Michael hated how Eric seemed so defeated by this. At the same time, he was trying to keep a lid on a simmering anger at Eric’s complete lack of desire to even try to understand. “Look I said I was sorry okay! I was just confused about everything and it just happened… I am sorry Eric, really.” _How can I explain it all so easily to Terry, and I barely even know where to begin to Eric?_

“So you kissed Terry because you were confused?”

“Yes-” 

“Confused about what? Me?” 

He sounded so lost. Michael envisaged a six year old Eric for the second time in ten minutes. “Well… yeah-”

“So you kissed Terry because you were confused about me. Hope it helped Mike.” 

“Don’t be like that Eric.” Michael all but pleaded, “I wanted to know if I felt anything like that for any other men.” 

There was silence from the other side of the cubicle. Mike hoped that he might have finally said something that got through to Eric what he was trying to convey. That he was indeed genuinely sorry that he kissed Terry – he wasn’t lying when he said it was a mistake through nothing but fatigue brought on by all his constant and confused thoughts about Eric. It did make one thing clear though – he certainly did not have any romantic feelings for Terry or any other man… except Eric. 

“Eric?” 

What seemed like an eternity later he heard the lock click and door slowly open. A rather dishevelled Eric emerged – his hair a mess (it looked like he had been continually running his hands through it), clothes rumpled and eyes red (oh hell, he had been crying) – peering through the door. “And?” 

“And what?”

“Did you feel anything?” 

Michael shook his head, a small smile threatening to escape.

“Oh.” Eric mumbled, looking down at the tiled floor.

 _Why did he sound so disappointed at this?_

“I should go…” Eric tried to move away, but Michael refused to let him leave and flee. Not again. 

“Michael, please get out of my way.”

Mike shook his head, pinning him to the bathroom wall. 

“Michael…” 

He silenced Eric by fusing their mouths together. He had to show Eric that he was the only one he had any feelings for (and that he was so sorry for kissing Terry). What better way to do it but kiss him? And, this kiss was far, far superior to the one he had stupidly, foolishly initiated with Terry earlier, despite Eric’s lack of response… 

Eric could feel himself melting into the kiss… until his unforgivingly stupid conscious remembered why Michael was kissing him in the first place… 

He broke the kiss, pulling away. He was finding it so very hard to look at Michael at this point in time. “No, I can’t.” 

Michael couldn’t help but feel hurt by Eric’s rejection. “Why, what’s wrong?” 

His eyes were again on the floor. “I can’t get that kiss out of my mind.” 

“I am sorry Eric, you have to believe me.” Michael pleaded, grasping Eric’s hand in his and cupping his face with the other in a last ditch attempt to get Eric to accept his apology. 

Eric nodded sadly, “I know… but every time I close my eyes I see you kissing him… it fucking _hurt_ Mike. I love you, but I just don’t know if I can forgive you…” 

Michael nodded in defeat; it was his turn to cast his eyes to the floor. He stepped aside so that Eric could make his escape. 

“Fuck…” 

_What do I do now?_

***M &E***

 

_Two of us, just the two of us_

_Not too many or too few of us_

_Two of us together in any kind of weather,_

_Two of us together just the two of us…_

He _had _to get that fucking song out of his head. It was only bringing back wonderful memories of yesteryear, now tinged by Michael’s indiscretion and lack of judgement. _Does the person upstairs hate me that much?_ He thought bitterly, finishing the last of yet another scotch, shuddering at its not so pleasant aftertaste. __

_Three’s a crowd…_ _Oh the bloody irony._ “Mike’sh probably giving Terry a nishe old fuck… and I’m the fucking third wheel…” Miserably, he stumbled off his uncomfortable loveseat and unsteadily made his way to the kitchen to grab another scotch. “Oh it’sh the lasht one… how many did I ‘av?” Six? Eight? Twelve? He couldn’t remember, and he didn’t much care. 

The image of Michael kissing Terry was on constant replay in his overwrought mind. This, combined with the copious amounts of alcohol fuelled a continuous image of Michael banging Terry; pounding at a furious pace. It was a vicious cycle, as this only made him want to drink even more; to get into a state of drunken oblivion. Allow himself at least a few small hours to forget… (Although truth be told a part of him knew that deep inside he wouldn’t be able to drown the memory away…) 

_“Oh god Tel. You’re so fucking tight.”_

_“S’good Mike, so s’good. Don’t stop.”_

_“Wouldn’t dare Tel. Please tell me you’re close baby.”_

_“Mmmm, fuck Mikey…”_

Only I can call him Mikey, Jonesh.” Eric slurred dismally. “No one elshe…” He desperately hoped that he would not see any more of that image than his mind had already conjured.

"Why Mikey? What’sh wrong wif me? ‘Sides from the fact I’mma fucked up… usheleshhs loosher…” 

There was a soft thumping coming from somewhere. Eric couldn’t quite work out where it was coming from or what it even was. By now, Eric had sunk to the cold, hard floor of his kitchen, physically unable to stand. “Oh I’m fucked…” 

There was that thumping noise again. “Go ‘way.” He said to the noise, it was hurting his head. 

"Oh Eric, what have you done to yourself?”

"Michael?” _I am fucked – I’m seeing things…_

Except he wasn’t. Mike was indeed standing there beside him. In his haste to make himself legless Eric had forgotten to lock the door behind him when he got home hours earlier. 

Michael had let himself in. He had been worried about Eric, the words “I love you, but I don’t know if I can forgive you” weighing heavily upon him. (He also felt horrible about this mess they found themselves in). And rightly so given his current drunken state. His alarm had increased upon finding the door unlocked. He had been deliberating on whether or not to give Eric some space for a day or two, but his increasingly guilty conscience won the battle. _Whatever shit I cop from him is no less than I deserve._

He crouched down so he could join Eric on the floor.

"You’re not here, you’re fucking Jonesh…” Eric drunkenly muttered, obviously not quite believing what he was seeing. He was staring mindlessly at what he thought had to be a hallucination…

Now how can I be doing that when I’m here? How many of those have you had Eric?” Mike asked, his tone depicting his concern as he gestured to the can of scotch lying limply in Eric’s hand. 

Eric’s glassy gaze fell to the drink in his hand. “Dunno. Not enough…” Came the slurred response. Michael knew Eric well enough to know that depending on what frame of mind Eric was in prior to drinking profoundly influenced whether he was a happy, giggly drunk, or a miserable, angry drunk.

Eric suddenly found it rather difficult to keep himself upright. He rested his head on Michael’s shoulder. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Michael sitting there next to him. Nothing… “What’sh wrong wif me Mikey? Why don’tch you like me?” His words were almost incomprehensible; such was the extent of his slurring, and combined with his sullen mood. 

"Oh mate there’s nothing wrong with you. And I do like you Eric.” Michael replied, deliberating when would be a good time to take the can out of his hold. _Not just yet._

"No you don’t. You kisshed Jonesh.”

"I still like _you_ Eric, not Terry or Gil, or Gray or John or Carol or anyone. I like _you_.” He couldn’t quite believe that he found the sudden courage to divulge that piece of information, or where that courage had come from… _Oh well, it’s out now… if it appeases Eric even a little, then I don’t care. Will he even remember? I hope so… even just a little bit… not sure if I could so easily reveal all when he’s sober…_

Eric looked up at him once he had processed what he had just heard. His blue eyes, which currently had a glazed countenance, were wide open in surprise. “You do?”

Mike nodded, smiling. He looks absolutely adorable. “Well I like all of us Pythons, but I _like_ you.” 

A small smile was threatening to escape; Michael could see the corners of Eric’s mouth twitch. “D’you mean it Mikey?”

Michael could not help but chuckle at this. He really was adorable. _Why on earth did it take me so long to realise that?_ “Yes I do.” 

That smile turned into a full on drunken grin. “Goosh, cos I like you too. I like you a lot.” He slurred, and again laid his head on Michael’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. 

Michael grinned and felt his cheeks turn red. He took this opportunity to gently pry the half empty can of scotch out of Eric’s grasp.

"I ain’t finished that…” Eric whined.

Mike chuckled for the second time in a matter of minutes. “I think you’ve had enough Eric. You’re going to have one hell of a sore head in the morning.”

"Mmm perhapsh.” He mumbled sleepily.

Michael smiled, “Okay, time to get you to bed.”

"Whats are you imply… imply… implying Mr Palinsh?” He chortled, as he hiccupped drunkenly. 

“Nothing in your condition Idle. You need a glass of water and a good night’s sleep.” 

“You’re no funsh anymore Mikey.” 

"Perhaps, but you’ll thank me in the morning. Come on, let’s get you up eh?” 

"Mm’kay.” Eric replied, unable to hold back a yawn.

"Lift your head up.” Michael instructed, referring to the fact that Eric still had his head resting comfortably atop of his shoulder. As Eric complied, Michael moved around so he was facing poor Eric and took the blonde’s hands in his. “You ready? One two three.” Together, they stood up, Eric swaying almost violently due to the alcohol flowing inanely through his system.

"Oh my god…” Eric moaned, _Why the fuck did I swallow all that scotch? So going to hate myself in the morning…_ “Can’t dosh itsh Mikey. It’sh too hard.”

"I’ve got you; you’ll be okay when you’re all tucked up in bed.”

"Oh fuuuccck…” 

Michael turned to look at Eric at this latest protest. He had turned pale; a sickly grey kind of colour. _Uh oh…_ “Are you okay? Do you need to be sick?” 

Upon hearing the word ‘sick’, Eric turned all but green and pursed his lips together in a desperate attempt to hold back the rising bile that he knew was coming. He loathed being sick with a passion. “No…”

Mike could not help but be concerned for Eric’s immediate welfare at this point. He was verging on paralytic judging by his level of intoxication. He had never, never seen Eric this bad… (And Eric had been plenty pissed plenty of times), and he knew it was _his_ entire fault. “You sure?” 

Eric nodded grimly, gritting his teeth. “Ugh… fuck I’mma be sick…” 

Thankfully they were still in Eric’s small kitchen and Michael had had the forethought to walk towards the sink, having suspected that he would need to be sick. Eric was too out of it to really notice. Hell, Mike didn’t really know if Eric still thought that he wasn’t actually there… 

Michael couldn’t help but feel for him; his guilty conscience having conniptions as Eric heaved and spat pathetically all that his stomach had to offer and then some down the sink.He couldn’t look; as the sight of sick made him want to hurl, however he made sure that Eric had all the support he needed – a firm arm around his waist and his free hand keeping his long, blonde locks out of the way.

"Ugh I’mma fucking fucked Mikey…” Eric eventually murmured some minutes later. He was leaning heavily against the sink, his elongated fingers gripping the edge tightly. 

"Yeah I think you are. But you’ll be fine this time tomorrow, I promise.” Michael replied, unable to refrain from placing a tender kiss on Eric’s forehead. 

Eric looked up at him, those hazy blue eyes showing a myriad of emotions; soft being the most prominent. “Mhm.” _I am definitely imagining things… there’s no way he can be really here… saying all these wonderful, delightful words to me…kissing me…_

"Come on, time for bed mate.” 

It took a while, (with Eric barely able to walk let alone climb the stairs to his room – stumbling on almost every step), but finally Eric was safely tucked up in bed with a glass of water and aspirin on his bedside table. “You get some sleep Eric. I’ll come and see how you’re doing sometime tomorrow.”

Eric had snuggled deep into his pillows; whether he had heard him Michael wasn’t sure. He was half-asleep already. “Mmm… stay Mikey, pleashe?”

_Gah… he’s so hard to resist when he’s like this…_

"I should go…” _Maybe if I slept on the couch just in case???_

"Pleashe Mikey, me ‘ead ‘urts.”

Michael rolled his eyes at his own powerlessness to not succumb to Eric’s childlike behaviour. “Alright Eric, I’ll sleep on the couch okay? If you need me just sing out.”

Eric somehow sunk even further into his pillows, seemingly content with this response. “Mmkay, night Mikey.” 

Michael smiled, as he switched off the light, “Night Eric.” As he walked down the stairs, he could have sworn he heard an “I love you” come from the bedroom… 

_Oh Eric… I think I love you too…_

***M &E***

Eric did not have the most plentiful night’s sleep in history. He tossed and turned all night… the effects of the alcohol becoming more evident with each passing hour. If he wasn’t holding his head in his hands and whimpering at the pain, he was stumbling blindly to the bathroom to throw up. 

Needless to say Michael didn’t fare much better. He winced in sympathy when he heard the taller man’s moans and groans echoing down the stairs in an excruciating clarity. It seemed to happen on the hour, every hour. The first couple of times he had woken to Eric’s plaintive moaning he had bolted and practically bolted up the stairs to help his increasingly hungover friend, making sure he got to the bathroom alright and that he was rehydrating with water. In the end, he opted to simply stay in the bedroom with him, despite the lingering stale smell of booze and sick (a frightful combination) – it had to be better than continually going up and down the stairs all night. The only thing he had to make sure of was that he was not there when Eric woke up in the morning… _That might not turn out too well…_

It was well past ten when Eric finally awoke from his troubled sleep, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Oh shit…” He murmured, holding his head in the softness of his pillow, seeking some relief from the blinding pain rampaging through his head that seemed to transcend throughout his thirty year old body. “Did I get hit by a truck or something?” He wondered, “And where the hell am I?” 

Several moments later he had managed to ascertain that he was in someone’s bedroom… _Mine? Can’t remember a fucking thing…_

Disjointed images came to life. Going home early (and embarrassingly in tears). Immediately heading for the fridge to empty it of its alcohol supply. Collapsing to the floor because he could no longer stand up. Getting sick??? Michael...

_Mikey?_

It was then other images jumped to the forefront of his conscious. Michael kissing Terry, Michael having sex with Terry… Okay, so he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that the last one wasn’t just a product of his imagination but still… 

"Fuck kill me now…”

His heart shattered for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. _How am I going to face them again? It just hurts…_

"Ugh…” He had to stop thinking; it was hurting his poor head too much.

He then noticed a glass of water and some pain killers sitting on his bedside table. How did they get there? He decided he didn’t care and fumbled for the tablets and glass, wolfing them down. _They better be fucking industrial strength._

As soon as had he taken the medication, he slumped back down into his pillows. That effort had taken all his strength. _That’s pissweak Idle…_

Sleepily, he closed his eyes and drifted once again into a restless slumber… 

_“What?” He asked, laughing. “Why the hell are you staring at me?”_

_“Your eyes…”_

_“What about my eyes?”_

_“They’re so pretty.”_

_“What? You’re talking bullshit.” He felt his cheeks maddeningly redden from embarrassment. This should not be affecting him so…_

_“I’m serious. They’re lovely.”_

_“Oh my god you are completely and utterly fucked aren’t you?” It would be so much easier to handle this is he was pissed also (no doubt he’d kiss him senseless and rip off his clothes), but he’d hardly touched a drop. So why did a part of him still want to do that?_

_“Maybe, maybe not… but that doesn’t mean I’m not being completely and utterly serious. And it’s not just your eyes. It’s your hair – it’s so… it’s so… magnificent. Long and so golden. I could put my fingers through it all day and it smells so good…”_

_Was this a dream? He didn’t actually seem wasted…_

_“Mike, you’re creeping me out here.” His whole face seemingly flushing a deeper shade of red. But he could not deny what the other man’s words were doing to him…_

_Michael was even closer now than mere seconds ago. And he was doing exactly what he spoke of only moments before, running his fingers through his blonde locks; teasing and threading._

_Eric groaned audibly when Michael began to repeatedly kiss his cheek. Hell, this was going all pear-shaped at a furious pace…_

_“You like that don’tcha Eric?”_

_Oh god…_

_“I know you like that Eric.” He grasped the other side of his face so that Eric was face to face with Michael. He quickly closed the miniscule gap between them and kissed him… this time on Eric’s soft and inviting lips._

_Oh to hell with it. It had to be a dream. There’s no way in hell Michael would be so loving and eager to seduce him like this when sober in the real world…_

_Before things got too heated between them something changed. “What do you think you’re doing Mike?”_

_Terry stood there. He seemingly appeared out of thin air. Michael broke off the kiss, turning to face his writing partner and close friend. Eric hoped Mike would tell him to piss off and quickly continue this wonderful make-out session…_

_To his horror Michael pulled out of the tight embrace they had found themselves in and scooted over to Terry. “I wanted to make you jealous love. Did it work?”_

_“Oh fuck yes. I’m so turned on right now.”_

_“You were watching the whole time weren’t you love?”_

_Terry nodded._

_“Good.”_

_Michael kissed Terry passionately. Again and again…_

_Eric could scarcely believe his eyes and ears. Never ever had he felt so betrayed…_

Eric’s eyes flew open, his heart pounding to within an inch of its life. “Thank god that was a dream.” He muttered, pleasantly surprised to find his throbbing alcohol-induced headache somewhat dulled. He still felt like death warmed up mind. 

_But Michael kissing Terry was not a dream. That was real._

"Fuck.”

He stumbled down the stairs sometime later, his body moaning in protest. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw…

"Michael?”

Michael glanced up from the paper he was reading. He had heard Eric, it was almost impossible not to given how much noise he was making. “Hello Eric. How are you feeling?” Truth be told, he had started to worry – it was now past midday.

"What are you doing here?” He asked, completely ignoring Michael. His voice was scratchy and Mike couldn’t help but inwardly cringe at the rasping huskiness he heard.

"I wanted to see how you were.”

“How do you reckon I’m doing? I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with Ali.” Eric snapped irritably, answering Michael’s query from moments ago.

Michael hummed in sympathy. “Do you want anything?”

Eric stared at him in confusion. _What the hell is he doing here and why does he want to help?_

"Eric?” Michael’s soft voice brought him out of his musings. “Do you need anything?”

 _Maybe for you to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at…_ “No…” 

Michael nodded, and couldn’t quite contain the feeling of hurt at Eric’s bluntness. _Don’t be stupid Palin. You had to expect him to be like this…_

“Why are you here Mike?”

 _Okay, he doesn’t remember… hardly surprising._ “I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing.” He replied, shrugging, waiting for the barrage…

“How did you know I would be wrecked? Were you here?” Eric asked, his exhausted and hungover mind starting to put the pieces together. 

Mike nodded. “Yeah, I had to see that you were okay after-“ 

"After what? After you kissing the shit out of Terry and then trying to make it all better by kissing me in the dunny?” His roaring headache was back with a vengeance.

"I was worried Eric! And I meant what I said to you yesterday.” Michael exclaimed, trying to defend himself. 

"Yeah that you didn’t mean for it to happen and only did it because you were confused about me. Ya di ya di ya ya da.” Eric retorted, unable to get that heartbreaking image out of his head, despite all the scotch. His hands massaged his weary temples. _You fucking idiot Idle – did you really think it was going to work? All it ended up giving you was the worst hangover in history._

Something inside Michael broke. _He has to get over it sooner or later. He can’t hang it over me forever. Especially not after all the trouble I went to looking after him in his drunken state…_ “And I also said that it meant nothing!” Michael fired back. “For fuck sake Eric – I tended to you in your inebriated state last night. I stayed here all night – at your request mind you - to make sure that you wouldn’t drown in your own vomit or anything and this is the thanks I get! You’re something else Idle you know that?” 

Eric’s eyes softened for a moment upon hearing this. “You stayed with me, the whole night? So I wasn’t hallucinating?” He asked, almost to himself more than the other man as fragmented memories again came back to him. _Perhaps they were real. Maybe Mikey did say that he likes me…_ “Thank you Mike, that means a lot.” 

"Yeah I did. You’re an ungrateful selfish bastard.” Michael griped, rather harshly, seemingly not hearing Eric’s sincere gratitude.

"Fuck Palin. I just thanked you for looking after me you bastard.” Eric pointed out, his hands going to massage his aching temples yet again. “Get out. I can take it from here.” 

"Hope you feel better soon.” Michael snapped, making his way for the door. Seconds later, the door slammed with a painfully deafening bang that did absolutely nothing for Eric’s agonising forehead and exhausted being. 

***M &E***

He stared at his lover’s frail, fragile form on the hospital bed. He could not take his eyes away from the horrible, yet very real, sight that would haunt him for some time to come… if not the rest of his days. He could not believe that he was sitting here in this hospital room, watching him fight for life. 

His hand continued to hold the other man’s. His other hand had found its way to his hair, which now seemed so listless. His fingers seemed to love playing with his hair it seemed. “You do need to wake up okay? I have to make things right and show you exactly how much you mean to me.”

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it would seem that my Muse is lazy, cannot seem to finish fics concisely. and not only that also a DramaandAngstWhore...
> 
> I'm so so sorry for the delay, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if people had completely lost interest in this (if they had any to begin with...)
> 
> If there are still some readers out there, hope you enjoy. Feedback as always would be most appreciated. <3 xo
> 
>  **Title:** Two of Us 3/? 
> 
> **Author:** Kylie (kyliesmilie26)
> 
>  **Pairing:** Who else? M/E  <3 
> 
> **Rating:** R. For swearing and adult themes. 
> 
> **Summary:** Okay… let’s attempt to do a proper summary. Michael and Eric have been in a relationship – of sorts – for several years. One has realised that he is in love with the other person; question is, does that other love him back? Or have any kind of deep feelings for him at all? And what will happen when an attempt is made to talk about it? 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.

 

***M &E***

**Previously…**

 

**_He stared at his lover’s frail, fragile form on thehospital bed. He could not take his eyes away from the horrible, yet very real, sight that would haunt him for some time to come… if not the rest of his days. He could not believe that he was sitting here in this hospital room, watching him fight for life. _ **

  
**_His hand continued to hold the other man’s. His other hand had found its way to his hair, which now seemed so listless. His fingers seemed to love playing with his hair it seemed. “You do need to wake up okay? I have to make things right and show you exactly how much you mean to me.”_ **

 

***M &E* **

**Five hours earlier…**

 

Eric let the phone ring out for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last hour. He knew exactly who it was trying to call. Well, maybe not _exactly,_ but he could definitely narrow it down to one of five. _They have probably all tried by now._

_I just don’t want to talk to them. How can I? Michael would have told them everything by now… just cannot face the humiliation._

A small, rational part within him knew that he was acting incredibly childish, but he could not help it. The mere thought of working through and editing sketches, writing sketches (let alone acting them out) made him feel ill. _Or perhaps that was all that fucking booze you swallowed Idle._

He stupidly let his thoughts drift to Michael again. _What are you, a sucker for punishment? Get a bloody grip._

“I can’t believe I thanked him for helping me. All he did was throw it back in my face. It was his fucking fault in the first place!”  

  
Eric sighed miserably, as he continued to nurse not only his self-inflicted hangover but his broken heart. “Just face it Idle, it’s not going to happen.”

_But why did he kiss me as if his life depended on it? And why did he tend to me last night?_

  
_It’s too bloody complicated…_

 

***M &E***

 

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d be sitting here, watching him fight just to stay in this world.  Especially after all the shit he had dealt him only hours before. _He was only trying to help…_ Hangover or no hangover, nothing was going to make him move from the uncomfortable chair. He was going to stay here until he saw those hazel eyes. _I should not have gone off at him earlier… I feel like the worst person on the planet. This is all my fault…_

  
“I’m so sorry Mikey. I hope you can forgive me.” 

    
Eric wretchedly put his head into his free hand, massaging his seemingly never-ending headache (not that he gave a damn about that anymore) and rubbing his eyes, before nervously running his fingers through his already messed up blonde locks. This was because of countless and anxious toying of said hair following being told the worst news of his life. It was a nervous habit he had had since he was very young. 

  
_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

_Who the hell is that and what the fuck do they want? Eric groaned as the pounding of his door wreaked havoc on his throbbing headache. Why can’t everyone just leave me alone for two minutes?_

**_Thump!_ ** _**Thump!** **Thump!**_

_The pounding was becoming more persistent and caused his alcohol-induced headache to seemingly implode from the torment._

_“Idle will you open this damn door?”_

_Oh hell…_

_Can’t they understand that I can’t do this today? Or tomorrow. Or perhaps forever._

_"Idle! If you don’t open this bloody door right now…”_

_“What do you want Cleese? I’m busy.” He snapped, in no mood to handle John and his fickle ways at the moment._

_John took one long look and scoffed. “Sure you are.”_

_Eric rolled his eyes. “What do you want?” He repeated, his tone a lot softer this time round. There was something indecipherable in the taller man’s dark eyes. Something that startled him a little if he was being completely honest with himself._

_John hesitated. This was not his strong suit at all… why was it that he got lumbered with this? What he was about to do did not come easily; it wasn’t in his nature to be overtly gentile – especially with men. But Terry J had told him to break this shocking news to him gently, and he was stunned when he found out **why.** Really guys – you two? _

_Then again, he had noticed something between the youngest Pythons. Or was he imagining that now he knew the true extent of the relationship between the two?_

_“John?” Eric’s voice broke him out of his chaotic thoughts._

_“Uh, yeah. Can I come in?”_

_That slow simmering feeling of unease slowly, yet deliberately, began to boil. “I guess. Did you want a cuppa or something?” He asked, trying to be hospitable._

_“No thanks… actually some water would be good.”_

_“Water?” Eric asked in surprise._

_“Yes please.”_

_How the fuck am I going to tell him? Not sure how I would deal with an overly emotional Idle._

_Eric walked in several minutes later with not one but two glasses. “It wouldn’t hurt me to have one.” He told him when John looked at him curiously._

_Despite the almost overbearing nerves running through him, he had to chuckle. “So you admit you’re ridiculously hungover?”_

_Eric chuckled too. “Yeah, is it that obvious?”_

_John nodded. “You’d have to be both deaf and blind not to see you’re suffering from overindulgence in alcohol consumption.”_

_Eric smirked as he wearily sat down. “So why are you here John? I wouldn’t put it past you to have merely come to torture me when I’m in agony, I don’t think that’s it… or there’s more to it than just a co-worker’s teasing…”_

_“Eric…” John stopped his fellow Python’s rambling. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to prevent the hitch in his words. He hated Eric’s perplexed and disconcerted countenance even more._

_“What the fuck has happened?” Eric spat out, his timbre almost matching his ‘female’ voice. He could not shake off this anxious feeling. It had steadily been rising and now reached boiling point. He did not like how nervous and almost… meek, John appeared to be. He hadn’t even made a flippant comeback on his gripe about him only coming to torture him in his hungover state._

_“Can you sit down Eric?” Eric had got up and nervously paced his living room as he often did when he was worried about something._

_“Please?”_

_John’s ‘please’ alone made him sit down. It was rare for John to use those two words – please and sorry._

_“Can you just tell me?”_

_John sighed, inwardly grumbling (for the fifth or sixth time) at the fact that he was the one whose job it was to tell Eric this. “It’s Michael. There’s been an accident.” He mumbled, unwilling to look the blonde in the eye._

_Eric’s eyes widened; his mouth opening and closing in shock as he sagged further into the beige cushions._

_“You’re lying.” Was his initial response, unable to quite believe what John had just told him._

_“I wish I was.”_

_John loathed the scared, fearful look in Eric’s baby blue eyes._

_“I don’t believe you.” Eric’s words caught badly – not caring about keeping his floundering emotions at bay._

_John walked over to where Eric was slouched on the couch. “Come on mate, let’s go and see how he is eh?”_

_Eric nodded, allowing the other man to lead him outside and into John’s car._

“Act like a girl much Idle?” He muttered to himself as he continued to watch over an unconscious Michael. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when Cleese told me.” He sighed, again running a shaking hand haphazardly through his long blonde locks.

He carefully placed a gentle kiss on each of Michael’s closed eyelids. “You have to wake up soon Mikey. You’re a fighter. Fight to come back to me okay?”

 

***M &E* **

 

He heard hushed whispers coming from somewhere far away.

_“Is he going to be alright?”_

_“What are we going to do?”_

_“How did he get like this?”_

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was content in the darkness – nothing could hurt him here… and he deserved to be surrounded by this veil of nothingness.

 

***M &E* **

 

 Eric was seemingly hypnotised by watching the rise and fall of his lover’s chest. His eyes would then flicker to the tube that was helping him breathe. His ears were permanently attuned to the steady beep coming from the machine that was monitoring his heartbeat.

It had been twenty four hours since he had been told about Michael’s accident. Plenty of doctors and nurses had come to monitor his condition. No one told him anything much, no matter how hard he tried to pry even a small tidbit of information. They either looked at him with a sad, sympathetic shrug and their reassurances they were doing all the possibly could… or stared at him in wonder, as if they were wondering what the hell he was doing here, keeping a bedside vigil beside a man. Being in a relationship with someone of the same sex was very much frowned upon and not many were open enough to accept it. He hated those dirty looks from those people…

 _It’s little wonder Mikey and I really haven’t made it official._ He mused. Despite Gray having come out pretty early on in since _Flying Circus_ began (and yes, he had slept plenty of times with Michael prior to that), Michael had not exactly been comfortable with their affair becoming public knowledge… and let’s be honest, neither was Eric. Well at the time, that had gradually changed, and now Eric couldn’t care less who knew he was in love with the man lying unconscious on the hospital bed. 

_That still doesn’t mean I like those looks from those hoity-toity people who think they’re better just because they’re conforming to society expectations…_

“Why can’t they just tell me how you’re doing Mike?” He grasped the limp hand in his, rubbing it gently. “Maybe I should have got in drag and made it look convincing… maybe then they’d tell me.” He shook his head as a mocking chuckle escaped in spite of himself. 

“I don’t even really know what exactly happened to you…” His voice drifted off as his thoughts turned to all the possible scenarios that could have resulted in Michael ending up here, each one more painful than the one previous. These ranged from Michael simply losing control, to someone running through a red light to slamming into a tree.

He glanced upwards, as if in prayer to some deity who would be willing to listen. He wasn’t sure what his thoughts on God were, but if some higher power did exist, he would pray as hard as he damn well could to bring Mikey back into the living. 

Eric made an educated guess that the impact was felt predominantly on the driver’s side given that most of Michael’s injuries seemed to be on his right side. His right arm was in plaster, the cuts and bruises that marred his beautiful face favoured the right side, and his right leg was elevated and in some weird contraption that was designed to help it heal. It looked like it had come out of Star Trek or something. Gray would probably know all about it. He briefly pondered why he hadn’t seen any of the others since John had driven him to the hospital, but thoughts of his Mikey strayed him away from that train of thought.

 _He just looks so frail and fragile. Should have been me._ He sighed and furiously wiped away at an errant tear that had had the nerve to escape. 

 

***M &E* **

 

He continued to be surrounded by a thick cloud of darkness. Wherever he was, he felt quite safe. No pain, it was only him and the black that didn’t seem to end.

Voices continued to drift to his conscious from time to time. Those tranquil whispers didn’t seem to make much sense, but they were somewhat comforting.

One seemed to tug at his heartstrings.

_“Stay with me…_

_Please, wake up…_

_Fight for me…”_

Fight for what? It was giving him a terrible headache so he allowed himself to wallow in the darkness.

 

  
***M &E***   


 

“Come on Mikey. I don’t know how much more I can take…”

It had been six days. The six longest days of his life. Eric was holding on to what was left of his sanity by the smallest, finest piece of thread.

They had tried taking him off the ventilator two days ago with little success. They had had to put him back on it when it soon became clear he wasn’t going to breathe on his own.

“Fuck that was too close.” Eric muttered as his thoughts wandered to those heart-stopping moments. “You can’t do that to me again Michael, you hear me?”

They had tried again earlier that day… and this time, he was able to breathe without the assistance of the ventilator. He still needed oxygen, but it was a massive relief to see that tube gone from his throat. Now it was just the wait to see (if) when he would wake. 

He sighed for the umpteenth time in the past six days. “I miss you Mikey. I miss you so much. More than you’ll ever know.”

“The boys say hello. Apparently only one visitor can be in the room at a time and cos I’m the Greedy Bastard they aren’t getting a look in.” (The statement was partly true at least – he was the only one allowed in the room, and he was selfish… He had _no idea_ what was happening with the others though…) He tried to joke; lighten the atmosphere a little. Not that it worked. Nothing would work… except to see those hazel eyes of Mikey’s again…

“It’s been pissing down all week Ducky. Typical London though really.” He couldn’t help but feel that the constant downpour reflected them in their current state – Eric’s downcast and sombre mood, and concern for an unconscious Michael. 

He stared at the handsome face of the man he adored. The bruises had now faded to that yellow colour and those many cuts were healing. His pallor looked better too – he seemed to have more colour to his beautiful face (or maybe that was just his wishful thinking).     

His eye caught the notepad on the bedside table. It was something he had been working on, initially to keep him from losing his mind (hmm… not too sure if that worked), but he found himself reading his thoughts on and off to Michael. He wasn’t entirely sure what the difference was, but he did find this calming. And he hoped it was soothing to his lover too.

“Do you want me to read some more of my shit to you Ducky?” He had taken to calling Michael by one of the pet names the other Pythons had given each other over the years. He didn’t know which one he liked better – Mikey or the latter. Probably the former, as no one else tended to really use it all that much, while Ducky he knew Mike wasn’t particularly fond of. Still, he thought that Ducky was cute, so he couldn’t stop himself from using the moniker.  

It wasn’t at all surprising that what he had tried to trick himself into believing that he would work on some sketches, were never going to be anything of the sort.

“Of course you do, why wouldn’t you eh? It’s about you after all.”

_When hasn’t it been anything but you???_

He glanced down at his messy scrawl. “The penmanship is atrocious Idle.” He prided himself on his usually very neat handwriting, but this he could barely look at without cringing in disgust. “Mike, you would not be impressed, it’s hardly legible.”

**_Michael,_ **

**_I’m sitting here by your side. I haven’t been anywhere else since I heard. Well duh Idle, you’ve already told him that countless times._ **

**_I can’t help but mindlessly gaze upon you. Even all banged up; you are the most wonderful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t roll your eyes at me Mikey, it’s true. From your luscious dark hair to your amazing lips, and by Jove those lips can fucking kiss!_ **

**_But when it all comes down to it, it’s your beautiful hazel eyes that get me. That look that only you know how to do makes me go weak in the knees._ **

**_I want to see those eyes again. Please Michael? Pretty please?_ **

**_You know I’m not past begging. I have stooped to that level numerous times over the years. Only for you though Ducky. Only you._ **

**_I feel like I’m stuck on repeat. Not unlike that sketch where I’m stuck in a rut. Stuck in a rut. Stuck in a rut…_ **

**_Ahem. Like I was saying I feel like I’m repeating myself. I keep reading over my notes in this err… journal (I refuse to call it a diary – it’s not), and it’s all the same thing._ ** **_You. How scared I am for you, how much I want you to wake up, how sorry I am for what happened, and how much I love you._ **

**_Yes Michael, I, Eric Idle, love you._ **

**_I am so in love with you it’s ridiculous._ **

**_And I think you’re stuck with me forever._ **

He felt the faintest of pressures on his hand. He stared at their entwined hands in shock.

“Michael?” He asked, with bated breath. “Can you hear me?”

There was a spike in one of the machines that monitored Michael’s condition. It was the one that monitored brain activity. It had gone up and down on occasion, but this was the biggest increase yet.

“Holy shit. You can hear me.”

Eric allowed the notebook to fall on the floor without another thought. “Can you squeeze my hand again Michael?”

Again, he felt pressure applied on his hand, a little stronger this time, but still weak. Not that he gave a damn – it meant that Mikey was coming back to him.

“That’s it Mike, you’re doing great. Can you open your eyes for me Mikey?”

The eyelids flickered.

Eric waited, his heart doing cartwheels as he anxiously waited to see if Michael would open his eyes. The wait was too much; he closed his own eyes and looked at their joined hands.

“Love me, d’you Idle?” It was raspy and slurred, but it was there.

Eric opened his own eyes and looked up, to find those hazel eyes staring back at him, very glazed and barely focusing, but Michael was indeed awake and looking right at Eric.

“Oh god, you’re awake! You’ve had me so worried Mikey. So so worried.”

Michael took some time to process this, and several moments later asked, “W’happened?”

Eric held onto Michael’s left hand tightly, silently praying that he wasn’t hurting the man beside him anymore than he was already. He did not want to add to the debilitating pain he no doubt was going through. “You had an accident Ducky. It was pretty bad; the docs weren’t sure whether you’d make it.”

Michael groaned, seemingly unable to do much bar gaze into those hypnotising baby blues of the blonde looking at him with bountiful concern and almost… adoration, maybe?

His thoughts were scattered, it was like they were shattered into a million pieces that he could not possibly put back together. The last thing he could remember was slamming the door into Eric’s, (who had one hell of a hangover at the time – nice one Palin), face. Not to mention that stupid stupid mistake of kissing Terry. And yet, he was _here…_

“You okay Mikey?”

Eric’s soft, worried timbre brought him back from the thoughts taking over his sluggish mind.

“Y-yeah Eric. Sleepy.” Came the short, tired response.

Eric went red, cursing himself inwardly at his selfishness for wanting him to stay awake. “Yeah of course. You must be exhausted, you get some rest.” He leant over and placed a delicate kiss on his forehead. 

“K. You look cute with a beard Idle.” He slurred as his eyes closed and breathing deepened as he drifted back into a drug-induced sleep.

Eric chuckled and unconsciously put his free hand to the week old growth, rubbing it thoughtfully. He hadn’t even bothered to shave or change his clothes. _Probably have a bad case of BO Idle._

He genuinely smiled for the first time in what felt like a month as he unashamedly stared at his Michael resting peacefully. _Hopefully pain free too._

  
***M &E***   


   
The darkness had again surrounded him. He still felt happy enough in the pitch black fog that was everywhere, but perhaps not quite as at ease as before. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but the paradigm had shifted slightly towards wanting to escape the constant darkness.

He just wasn’t sure how…

Those voices were still there from time to time.

_“What the hell is going on?”_

_“What’s happened?”_

And that one that still made his heart ache…

_“You have to come back to me._

_Please…”_

It was too hard, just too damn hard.

 

***M &E***

 

He was numb. Completely numb.

There was no other way to describe his emotions at this very moment.

How the fuck had it all gone to hell so quickly?

It wasn’t that long ago he was awake and telling him that, yes, he really did love him back…  
 _  
_ _“_ _You didn’t answer me b’fore.”_

_“What about?”_

_“I said something bout… no… heard you tell me that you love me.”_

_He hesitated, and those damn cheeks flared bright red again. “Uh…”_

_“You did,  d’you love me Eric?”_

_“… Uh, well…_

_Yes, I love you, fuck it all Mikey but I do love you.”_

_The grin that lit up Michael’s countenance upon hearing this also made his eyes sparkle. “Well that’s just wonderful. Love you too Ewic…”_

_“You do?” He asked in surprise._

_“Uh huh. And I am so so sorry bout kissin Terry…”_

_“It’s alright Mikey. I’ve forgiven you.”_

_“You have?”_

_“Yeah, after everything that’s happened I realised that life’s too fucking short to hold grudges over something so stupid. I was acting like a prat, I’m sorry.”_

_Michael smiled, grabbing Eric’s hand and placing it in his; offering comfort in the gentle, rhythmic strokes. “S’k. We good now?”_

_Eric grinned lazily. “Yeah we’re good.”_

_“Can you kiss me?” Michael asked, those big hazel eyes of his looking at him with that impossible-to-say-no look._

_“Well I dunno…”_

_“Puhlease Ewic?”   That damn pout of his got even more irresistible – if that were possible._

_“Oh okay.”_

_The kiss was soft and tender. Loving was the most apt term to describe it. The gentle kiss conveyed all the love they had just shared to the other. It was symbolic of what was to come…_

So why…

“Why did you leave me Mikey?”

  
**TBC…**   



End file.
